I'm still replaying it all after we lock up.
"What's with you, dude?" Trey asks as we walk to our parked motorcycles in the lot.
"Nothing." I sound surlier than I mean to.
"Did something happen between you and that dancer?"
"Shut up, asshole." Trey's my best friend, but sometimes he doesn't know how to leave well enough alone.
"Uh huh. I thought so. Damian said you were fucking her in the storeroom."
I grab Trey's collar and fist it up tight, getting my face right into his grill. "I was not fucking her."
"Okay," he says quickly, holding up his palms. "Whatever you say, bud."
I know all I've done is dug my grave now, so I release him and jerk my chin toward his bike. "Go on. I'll see you at home later."
"Where are you going?" he asks suspiciously.
"For a ride."
Trey shrugs and takes off. I wait until he's gone before I straddle my bike, turning it on with a louder rev of the engine than is necessary.
I tear out of the parking lot. It's almost three in the morning and no cars are left on the road. At least that's what I tell myself. The truth is that I'm still back in that fucking storeroom, replaying the part that went south with Angelina.
That's why I pull out of the alley without looking.
I don't see the car coming. Not until I'm flying over it as glass shatters like a burst of confetti from a party balloon.
Angelina
I don't know if all the screams are mine. Someone whimpers in the back seat.
That would be Remy. Talya's in the front seat beside me. Yeah, she's screaming, too.
I clamp my lips shut to stop the terrible sound and force my brain to work. I hit something. Someone.
Oh God. I just hit a motorcycle.
I lurch out of the car and stumble around to the front. The impact crushed my front grill, crumpling the hood. One of my headlights is out-broken by the impact. The remaining one casts an eerie beam over the horrible scene. A huge motorcycle is on its side in front of the car, but the rider-
Please don't let him be under the car.
A pitiful whimper comes out of my throat. I drop to my knees to peer under the carriage, but I can't see anything.
Talya and Remy tumble out of the vehicle, too. They were drunk when we left Eclipse. We'd be home by now, except Talya made me wait to drive home until the car stopped spinning for her.
"Wh-what's happening?" she croaks.
Remy stares at the bike. "Where's the driver?"
"I don't know," I wail, running around to the back of the car.
There.
A large crumpled form is lying on the alley pavement behind my car. I cover my mouth with my hand. Is he dead?
Please don't let him be dead.
No, he's moving, trying to sit up.
I run to him and squat beside him. "I-I don't think you're supposed to move."
He groans and pulls off his helmet. One arm wraps protectively around his ribs.
"Jared!" My heart rockets to my throat, choking me.
I've hurt Jared. I hit Jared. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad.
"Jared, don't move. I'm going to call 911." I fumble in my back pocket for the phone, cursing myself for not calling the second it happened. Or maybe this still is the second it happened. I can't tell. Time seems very slow at the moment.
"No." Jared snatches the phone out of my hand, cracking the case in his powerful grip.
I gape at him.
"No ambulance." He staggers to his feet and shoves my phone in his pocket. Blood runs down his forehead, pouring into his eyes.
I'm trembling from head to toe, my legs barely holding me up. "Wh-what? No, you need an ambulance."
He limps toward my car.
"Jared."
He walks around to the front and picks up-yes picks up-his motorcycle. I don't mean from the ground, I mean, into the air. He carries it around behind a dumpster and stows it there.
"Jared, are you all right? I think you need medical attention, right away."
"Yeah, definitely." Shock reverberates in Remy's voice. I wonder if mine sounds the same.
He-man-the Hulk-Neanderthal Joe just keeps going, dragging himself to the driver's side of my car and getting in.
"What? You can't drive. What are you doing?" I know I sound like the stupid one here, but he's acting crazy. He can't get in and drive a car. He probably has broken bones and a concussion. Not to mention the fact that he needs stitches on his forehead.
"Get in." The order is deep and scratchy and it carries so much command behind it, the three of us scramble to obey, even though he's in no position to be taking charge of this situation.
I climb in the passenger seat and Remy and Talya jump in back.
Jared puts the car in drive and takes off down the alley. I reach around to the floor of the back seat where I keep my dance bag and fish out a pair of tights. "Uh, here." I hand it to him, pointing at his bleeding forehead.
Confusion flits across his expression at first, but he accepts the fabric and swipes at his face, mopping the blood up. "Thanks." He hands it back like he doesn't need to use it for compression. Like it was just a scratch.
"Are you driving to the hospital?"
He gives a quick shake of his head. "I'm driving you three home. You're too shook up to drive, and they're drunk."
He's so matter of fact-sounds so completely capable-I almost forget for a moment he's in no condition to drive.
"Tell me where to go."